School Life in the Late 30s

A Personal Account

G D Sutton 1936 - 41

Y birthday being July 23rd, I had just turned eleven when I started at The
Lewes County School For Boys in September 1936.
I think I was the
youngest boy in the class. The fees were 14 pounds a year and it cost
three pounds for the three term train tickets.
Prior to starting school Mother and my Uncle Reg took me to
Horne Brothers in Brighton to buy my clothes - a school cap,
blazer, tie, house shoes, gym shoes and shorts, socks and knee
length grey flannel trousers. The school colours were Oxford blue
and Cambridge blue, perhaps because most of the masters had
graduated from these two universities, the exceptions being M.
Auld, the French teacher, Mr. Larwill, who taught wood and metal
working and had graduated from the College of Handicraft, and the
art teacher.

At the end of August Mother had to take me to the school
to be interviewed by the Headmaster. All the boys starting that year were
so interviewed to determine whether they should be placed in 2A or
2B. The bright ones went in the A stream which had an enriched
program (German, trigonometry, Latin and more intensive courses
in other subjects). I guess I didn't impress the Head very much
because I was allocated to the B stream. There was a provision
that the top two boys in 2B at the end of the year moved up into
the A stream. I wasn't one of them and I stayed in the B stream
throughout my school career.

There were about 360 boys in the school, divided into four
"Houses"- Lewes, Uckfield ( which included boys from as far away
as Crowborough and Heathfield), Seahaven, which comprised boys
living around Seaford and Newhaven, and Martlets, which comprised
those from sundry villages around Lewes. The houses competed in
sports and academics and a shield or cup for each activity was
awarded to the winning houses at year end. Each house had its own
prefects who were allowed to administer punishment for
infractions. Legend had it that this could be a caning, but I do
not recall any of them ever doing so. Usually they would make you
write 100 lines. That was the favourite punishment given by
masters, too.

There were a number of us that took the train from Uckfield
and special compartments were set aside for us. All too often I
would be racing up over the pedestrian bridge that went over the
railway tracks and down onto the platform just in time to catch
it. At the other end of the journey there was a five minute walk
to the school, built adjacent to the ruined Cluniac priory at the
edge of Lewes town.

The school had been built in 1929-30 and was quite modern and
attractive. It was single storey with covered corridors
surrounding open grass quadrangles. The classrooms and labs were
on

the south and east sides with full windows facing onto the
playing fields and the South Downs. The woodworking and metal
working shop was on the west side, as were the showers and
lockers. On the north was the library, the headmaster's study,
the assembly hall, dining hall and kitchen and the art classroom.
Two wings on the north-east and south-west contained toilets and
in the centre, between the quadrangles, was the gym which was
fully equipped with balance beams, wall bars, rope ladders, ropes
and frame plus mats, box and horse. On top of the gym was the
biology lab.

Years later, in the 1970's, I visited the school with my young
family and was horrified to discover that ugly red brick
classrooms had been erected in the two quadrangles, destroying
the most attractive feature of the school, another example of
what we discovered about postwar British architecture, namely
that cheapness and convenience governed at the expense of style,
attractiveness and usually even durability. However, an
attractive memorial chapel had been erected on the East side to
commemorate those boys who had died during the war. The school
had also become co-educational which seemed strange to me.

The playing fields were extensive. In winter there was room
for one soccer and three rugby pitches. In the corner was an open
air swimming pool that the boys had helped construct. There was
no circulating pump; the water in summer gradually got greener
with algae until it got so bad that it had to be drained and
refilled. But we loved it and it got a lot of use.

School started at 8.45 am with assembly at which a hymn would
be sung - the older boys with their deep voices, the younger ones
with their piping sopranos and the ones in between whose voices
were changing and uncertain. Prayers were said by the Headmaster
(Catholic boys stayed outside and came in after the prayers were
over), announcements were made and fortnightly results for each
form carried up to the Head by the boy who had come first in the
class. The Head always read as a final prayer the collect:

"Oh Lord our heavenly Father, Almighty and
everlasting God, who has safely brought us to the beginning of
this day; defend us in the same with thy mighty power; and grant
that this day we fall into no sin, neither run into any kind of
danger; but that all our doings may be ordered by thy governance,
to do always that is righteous in thy sight; through Jesus Christ
our Lord".

I knew it by heart, and took great comfort from it, especially
the bit about not running into any kind of danger.

Classes went to mid-day with just a 20 minute break. A
tuckshop was open during the break at which we could buy
chocolate bars, sweets and soft drinks or milk. At lunchtime
there were two groups in the dining room: those having a cooked
meal and those who brought their own sandwiches. For 9 pence a
day you could get the hot meal prepared by the kitchen staff,
headed by the caretaker's wife. Each table would have a senior
boy in charge who would delegate others to go to the kitchen
counter and collect the food, the meat on individual plates and
the vegetables in serving bowls for that table. They sat there,
with the bigger boys holding their hands over the bowls to get
first crack at the vegetables, until the master of the day had
gabbled quickly through grace.

Other boys at the table would collect the dirty dishes and
return them to the kitchen while the final group would bring back
the plates of dessert - usually a pudding of some kind. The
helpings were generous, the food wholesome but the potatoes and
gravy lumpy.

About half the boys would bring their own lunches and pay
threepence a week for the use of tables, glasses and cutlery,
also with a senior boy in charge to maintain order. Some brought
their own for financial reasons, others for reasons of diet.
There was one senior boy who always had a number of carrots to
eat. You can guess what his nickname was. I started off bringing
my own lunch but in 1939 Mother shifted me to the hot meal
program because Uncle Reg had joined the army and Mother was too
busy to make a main meal for me when I got home.

After lunch we would go out on the playing fields. A prefect
would be in charge of handing out equipment to those who wanted
it - cricket bats and balls in summer and footballs in winter -
which had to be returned before classes started again at 2 pm .
School was over at 4.0, except for Thursday when we had games on
the playing field that ended at 4.30. There were eight 40 minute
periods a day and we went from classroom to classroom according
to subject. The masters wore gowns most of the time. There were
no women teachers. [But see Mr
Bradshaw's letter !]

Gym was three times a week and once a week there was a
two-period games session, which would be soccer in the II and III
forms and rugby thereafter, cricket, swimming or track and field
in summer, and in spring either the winter sports or
cross-country running - three miles for the two youngest forms
and five miles for the older boys. The cross country course was
out along the tow path by the River Ouse, over fences, then back
through the adjacent fields where we had to jump ditches at every
boundary. The ditches were frequented by cows and were rich in
pond life.

I wasn't particularly good at sports. Everyone had to
participate during the games periods regardless of ability. Early
in the season there would be a match between the "probables" and
the "possibles" to determine who would be on the school teams. I
was always among the "possibles", good enough, however, to serve
as a substitute if a member of the team was unable to make a
game. In this way I got to visit a few other schools and to play
for the school at home. I enjoyed this. At half time we would be
handed out slices of lemon to suck, without going off the field,
and after the game was over we would shower and go into tea and
entertain our guests by politely offering them first crack at the
plates of sandwiches and buns prepared by the kitchen staff. I
also was on the Uckfield House teams for inter-house contests,
which regrettably did not feature tea afterwards.

Rugger was my favourite sport, even though we played in some
miserable weather conditions such as sleet. No game was cancelled
because of weather and if you complained you were a cissy. My
least favourite was cricket; it was that cursed ball with the
seam around the middle that cut into your hand when you caught it
even though you would swing with the motion. Then there were the
ridiculous fielding locations such as "silly mid on" which were
close to the batsman and when he clouted the ball you were
expected to catch it.

In spring and summer there was track and field. Relay races
were fun. Two good runners would be appointed by the master to
select teams and they would do so in order, naturally picking the
best first and leaving the weak ones to the last.

I think it was in 1938 that the Head had the bright (?) idea
of instituting a hobby program. We were presented with a list of
hobbies we could choose from, for each of which a master had
volunteered or been selected, and the final period of one day was
set aside for the purpose. The catch was that the hobby session
went on beyond regular school for another 40 minutes.

None of the hobbies listed had any interest for me or for most
of us. I finally picked on ornithology. We didn't know what it
meant, but the master in charge was Mr. Auld, the senior French
master, and we thought he would be a soft touch and we were
successful in persuading him that we had to leave early in order
to catch our trains.

Mr. Auld brought along a telescope and gave us each a note
book and took us on walks out by the river with instructions to
look out for unusual birds. Mr. Auld would spot something out of
the ordinary and immediately draw our attention to it. We took
turns looking through the telescope and noted down our sighting
in the book. This was all pretty boring.

After a number of sessions of this weekly walk looking for
birds he hit on the bright idea of a debate; subject "can birds
think?". He selected Arthur Dodson and me to take the
affirmative. I hadn't a clue whether birds thought or not, and no
idea where to find out. On the day of the debate Arthur started
off by saying he had a dog and he was pretty convinced that the
dog could think, giving examples, so he supposed birds could too.
The opposition found this hard to refute. Then came my turn and I
stood up and said all that I had to say - that I didn't know
whether birds could think or not but I thought Arthur had a good
point. Mr. Auld was not impressed. Pretty soon the hobby program
petered out.

In the classrooms our desks were freestanding, wooden, with a
lid that lifted up to reveal a compartment in which we could
store our books etc. We sat in chairs. Each form had its
"form-room" and its form-master. Although other boys from other
forms would sit at your desk while taking lessons I never had a
problem with theft or vandalism. We respected each other's
property. There were about 30 boys in each form.

I got caned twice. Both occasions were the result of
confinement on rainy days. The first time, since we couldn't go
out on the playing fields we returned to our form-room and a
bunch of us lined up the desks on two sides of the classroom,
raised the lids and hurled gym shoes at each other endeavouring
to knock a lid down or, if we missed, get someone round the ear.
Unfortunately the caretaker passed by, saw the fight and entered
the room. He caught one right in the face.

Names were taken and in due course we were summoned to the
Headmaster's study. The Head called in the Caretaker and asked
him to describe what happened. He testified like a policeman in
court, looking at notes from time to time and giving his version
of events directly and succinctly. After he had finished the Head
turned to us and asked if we agreed with what we had heard. We
nodded and said "yes sir". He thanked the Caretaker and told us
to wait outside until he called us in one at a time. I was last.
Each boy came out shaking his hands as if to get rid of the sting
and those of us remaining would anxiously ask what happened, how
many strokes, does it hurt? My turn came and I was told to hold
out my left hand. The Head raised the cane and brought it down
with a cutting motion. It hurt. Once more. Then the right hand,
twice. "Thank you sir". Dismissed.

The second occasion was a couple of years later. Same
situation only this time we were flinging pieces of chalk at each
other. The floor was a mess. We put the desks back in their
places hoping the form master, Mr. Tayler, wouldn't notice. He
did and demanded to know who were the culprits. Nobody answered.
"Very well, the whole class will stay behind after school until
those responsible own up." We stayed, and stayed until one boy
broke down and admitted he was involved. He wouldn't name anyone
else, but in short order the rest of us - six in all - spoke up.
This time the caning was on the behind. I had to bend over and
touch my toes, the Head raised my jacket and delivered six
cutting strokes. Each of us came out vigorously rubbing our
behinds. We bore no grudges. We thought we had got what we
deserved and had learnt a lesson.

Only the Head administered corporal punishment. Other masters
or prefects would give an "imposition", which consisted of
writing out 50 or 100 times an epigram, such as 'Distinguish
yourself by gentlemanly behaviour', 'A day without a laugh is a
day wasted', 'Above all, to thine own self be true', "Where
ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise" or, if one had
forgotten to do his homework, "Lest we forget, lest we
forget".

I never studied for exams. I did what I had to do in the way
of homework - and there was homework every night - and read what
I was interested in. My marks were usually respectable but I
think I came first only once. However, in my first year there was
an examination for a scholarship. There were five places to be
awarded. The results came out and my name wasn't there, yet I
knew in my heart that I had won. I reported the bad news at home
but said nothing about my belief. Two weeks later amended results
were announced and my name was included. I wasn't in the least
surprised, but at first said nothing at home. While we were
having tea my chum made some remark about my being lucky, and I
said "luckier than you think". Uncle Reg looked at me and asked
what I meant by that. I told them about the amended results and
that I had won a scholarship which not only paid my way through
school but also my train fares every term. They were all
naturally delighted, but the promise Mother had made that if I
won a scholarship she would buy me a bicycle was not fulfilled.
She said she was nervous about my riding a bike on the busy
roads. I didn't get a bike until I bought my own to go to my
first job in Canada at the age of sixteen.

Once a year the school put on a play. The Headmaster got
involved because I think he fancied himself as a director and it
was quite a professional production. The first two years I was
there it was all done in house with the smaller boys taking the
female roles (they had a hard time living that down) but after
that the girls' school was invited to participate, which aroused
a good deal of curiosity and much peeking in on rehearsals. I
remember "A Midsummer Night's Dream", " Macbeth " and Ibsen's
"The Pretenders". I wasn't a participant in the plays but enjoyed
watching them.

Before Christmas there would be special dinner, known as the
"bun fight", and a concert put on by the boys just for the boys.
The concerts were very good. We had one boy named Smith who was
an accomplished pianist and he would play something classical.
There might be a short play ("Androcles and the Lion" was one),
songs by the choir (my only participation) and skits by the
senior boys. I recall a quartet of prefects singing popular songs
such as "The Lady In Red".

In the late spring there was a fete, held on a Saturday, with
booths and races such as egg and spoon, three legged, etc., and
of course a refreshment booth with tea and buns; for sixpence you
could eat all you wanted, which was fine where adults were
concerned but dangerous for the profits when applied to healthy,
hungry growing boys.

During the summer holidays the school organised a camping trip
for those interested. The summer of 1937 it was to Chamonix in
the French Alps. The cost was 8 pounds. I went home excited and
said I really wanted to go. Uncle Reg said that was a lot of
money and I would have to work and save for it. What could I do?
I got an allowance of sixpence a week. He worked out a
remuneration package for work: a farthing a log cut (they weren't
big logs) so much for washing the car, a job I didn't mind except
for the wheels as they were wire spokes that had to be cleaned
with a special brush that sprayed water all over me, so much for
digging the garden etc. As the time approached I was in despair;
I had saved up only about 22 shillings. Then I was told that I
could keep that as spending money and they would pay the 8
pounds.

We had been told to get a pair of hob-nailed boots and break
them in, so I got them and went for long walks. The sound of the
hob nails on the pavement attracted a lot of attention and
smiles, but I didn't mind. I was getting ready for the
mountains.

It was an exciting trip. Train to Newhaven, boat to Dieppe (my
first boat trip), train to Paris, change stations at Paris and
dinner in the station restaurant where we were introduced to an
eight-course meal of strange dishes, many of which we were
convinced were derived from frogs, and then overnight to
Chamonix, sleeping as best we could on our kitbags but too
excited to sleep much. One boy - Clem Berry - was train sick. On
arrival we slept the first night in a barn as the tents hadn't
arrived but the next day they came and we got organised. Each
bell tent had eight boys with an older boy in charge. The masters
and their families had separate tents.

We had to take turns at chores such as cooking and washing
dishes and we had to keep the tents neat and aired. Trips were
arranged on the Glacier des Bossons, which comes straight down
the face of Mont Blanc; the Mer de Glace, where we had to take a
funicular railway up to where we hiked across the glacier and
where, idly chipping ice with my stick into a crevasse, I nearly
fell in; to Geneva, where I signed my name in the League of
Nations visitors book (I don't suppose the powers that be noticed
it); a hike up to the source of the river that flowed by the
campsite and other interesting sites. It was the owner of the
property who acted as our guide up the river, where we clambered
over rocks spewed down from the glacier at the source. He didn't
wear hob nails; he had rubber soled shoes. I found that hob nails
were not the best thing for going over rocks but they were great
on ice.

Often we would walk into Chamonix, mainly to buy presents for
everyone at home, and sit at an outdoor cafe and have a grenadine
and soda. There was one cafe where there was an all-women
orchestra, dressed in long red gowns, that played in the evening.
We would listen to them and watch the setting sun turn the snow
on Mont Blanc to a beautiful pink. On one occasion as we walked
through the woods we came across some French soldiers on
maneouvres. They were relaxed, eating blueberries, and they
showed us how to recognise them and gave us some to eat.

When we left Lewes we gave our spending money, in pounds, to a
master and when we wanted some we went to him and he would give
us francs, keeping careful record in a book. I calculated that I
had spent it all, but when we got back to Lewes he gave me a
shilling or so back, explaining that the exchange rate had moved
in favour of the pound. I didn't understand this, but I didn't
argue. It was my first experience of exchange rates.

The next year, 1938, the camp was in Normandy. This time the
cost was five pounds and I had the same deal to earn my spending
money. We camped near Thury Harcourt, beside the Orne river, and
we had a couple of boats at our disposal although we had to
persuade an older boy to take us out each time we wanted to go.
This was the area of much fighting in World War II. We visited
Caen, Bayeux and other places in the area and went on long hikes.
In the evening we would walk into Thury Harcourt and pop into a
cafe and order Grenadine and Soda and sit and sit while we kept
pouring in more soda. The owner didn't make much money out of us!
Twice a week a movie would be shown in the village square - in
French, of course. Once we bought a bottle of red wine. It was
cheap, and we had no trouble buying it. We took it back to the
tent, someone borrowed a corkscrew from stores and we opened it.
What a disappointment. It tasted sour. We tried adding sugar to
make it pallatable but in the end we poured it away.

In 1939, with the danger of
war breaking out, it was decided not to go on to the continent.
We went to camp at Stratford. We saw a couple of plays at the
theatre, where I overheard an American girl greeting a fellow
countryman with "Why, hello big boy !", visited Warwick castle
etc. By this time I was nearing 14. The Deputy Head Master, Mr.
Jarvis, brought his wife and two daughters with him. I invited
the younger one out for a row on the Avon and she accepted. All I
remember of that was that I had to do all the rowing.

I really enjoyed those camping trips. We slept on ground
sheets in blankets, and slept well. We learnt some rudimentary
cooking (stew was a common dinner, porridge the usual breakfast)
and we learnt basic hygiene as we had to dig the latrines and
mess pits and fill them in afterwards and leave the field as we
found it. We got to know another side of the masters, too,
especially the Headmaster, who would often tell stories and
organise word games around the campfire at night.

Other one-day trips would be organised from time to time,
usually after year-end exams: Oxford, in conjunction with the
girls' school, Lewes castle and museum, hikes up on the downs
etc. On one hike up to Mount Caburn a bunch of us went down to an
old chalk quarry and climbed up the face of it, clutching tufts
of grass and stepping carefully on small outcrops of crumbly
chalk. The masters didn't try to stop us, but I bet they heaved a
sigh of relief as we clambered over the top onto safe grass.
Would they allow it today?

In 1940, one Saturday, a group of us went to Brighton to a
symphony concert. I remember my Uncle Reg, in uniform, pulling up
in the car as we were going to Lewes station to see if I would
like a ride home. When I told him we were going to a symphony
concert he was astounded, as I had shown no interest in classical
music. But I was enthralled, especially with Schubert's overture
to Rosamunde, which I came away humming and which has been a
favourite of mine ever since.

Year by year we moved up, the whole class - third form, fourth
form, the Remove then the fifth form. Nobody had to pass exams to
move up. While in the Remove some of us would be invited by a
master to stay behind and attend a fifth form function in an
evening. Usually there would be a guest speaker. I recall
listening to one gentleman early in 1939 who had just returned
from Germany and he was convinced there would be no war. The next
day the master asked me as we were walking along a corridor how I
enjoyed it. I replied "not very much". He was surprised and asked
why. "Because I didn't think he knew what he was talking about".
I was right.

Academically I was OK. If a subject really
interested me I would come first in the class, otherwise
I would be somewhere in the top half dozen. No one taught me how
to study or the importance of studying even those subjects that
didn't particularly interest me, and it never bothered me not to
come first and not be the one to take up the reports to the
Headmaster at assembly. At art and handicraft I was a duffer.
Nothing I did in woodwork fitted properly so I asked if I could
change to metalwork. The master, Mr. Larwill, once in frustration
asked me what I wanted
to do when I grew up. I told him I would like to go into the Colonial
Service. "Well, Sutton" he said in his broad Somerset accent, "You'll
have to learn to be a good deal tidier than that". He allowed me to
shift to metal work and challenged me to make an L square. This
entailed filing a piece of iron to the right thickness. I filed
and filed, session after session, and gradually a series of bumps
and hollows developed in the metal that, try as I might, I never
did remove. I gave up trying and cut a slot in the top, fitted
the thin piece of metal in, bored two holes and hammered in the
heated rivets. The L square was complete. But it wouldn't lie
quite flat and the angle of the "L" was not quite 90 degrees, so
it wasn't much use. But in one English literature exam there was a question
regarding Tennyson and I reproduced the entire "Lady of Shallot"
to illustrate my points. The master was very impressed.

When war broke out a London school - Tooting Bec, which we
thought was a funny name - was evacuated to Lewes and fitted in
with us. The curriculum had to be reorganised to accommodate
them. We didn't go to school on Thursdays but we had to go
Saturday mornings. They had their own masters. Actually it worked
out quite smoothly although the dining room was more crowded.
Naturally there were contests between the schools and we were
confident we could beat them handily. To our chagrin, however,
they generally beat us, even in track and field when our star
runner, D. Thomas, struggled without success to catch their man
in the 440 yards.

We were all issued gas masks shortly before the war which we
were to have with us at all times. Air raid shelters were built,
some out of concrete sewer pipe banked with earth, others just
brick structures (they were still there as of 1998 !) and we
practised evacuating the school into the shelters quickly. We
could do it in two minutes. After many false alarms from the
official air raid warning sirens the Headmaster decided to give
the prefects training in aircraft recognition and had two of them
stationed on the balcony in front of the prefects' common room.
If they sighted an enemy plane they rang a bell and out we went.
Once they didn't see it. We heard this whistling sound and Mr.
Jarvis, who had been in World War I , immediately told us to get
under our desks. We heard the bombs go over us and explode.
Naturally, being curious boys, we went over at lunch time to look
at the craters, which were near a bridge over the Ouse, and pick
up pieces of shrapnel as souvenirs.

One of the masters, Mr. Smith, who was over six feet tall, was
called up and sent to France. He was among those evacuated from
Dunkirk and we welcomed him on his return to the school for a
visit. He seemed in good spirits. Not so happy were two French
boys in our class who felt humiliated at the collapse of the
French army. As for the rest of us, we had a sense of relief that
we were on our own and not stuck with any unreliable allies, and
Churchill inspired everyone with his speeches.

In the early autumn of 1940, at the height of the Battle of
Britain, we were in and out of the shelters four or five times a
day. It was dark in there and impossible to do much classwork.
The masters would organise question and answer sessions and
conduct spelling contests.

Having just turned 15 and entered the fifth form I was
appointed a train prefect, that is I was in charge of a
compartment on the train to and from Uckfield, a journey that
took 20 minutes for eight miles with stops at Barcombe Mills and
Isfield. I was supposed to maintain law and order and, more
especially, take action in the event of an air raid on the train.
What action, sir ? "Use your native ingenuity !", was the
response.

The Battle of Britain took place over our heads. I would watch
the condensation trails of the fighters twisting in and out, and
every once in a while a plane would come diving down and
disappear - hopefully one of theirs. We were fed daily reports
over the radio which were quite misleading and inaccurate, but we
believed them. Once, as I was walking through Buxted Park, a
Dornier flew low machine gunning anything handy and I ducked
behind a tree. At Uckfield we were bombed a couple of times but
the only damage we experienced was some broken windows. Some
incendiaries were dropped harmlessly in the meadows beside the
High Street and I rushed out next morning for souvenirs. We
collected ends of incendiary bombs, pieces of shrapnel and bits
of parachutes, which often had burn marks, as trophies.

September 15, 1940 there was an invasion alert. Uckfield was
occupied by Canadian troops who set up machine gun posts and road
blocks. At the Bell Hotel we served them tea and refreshments and
allowed them to use our facilities. A chain of brick pill boxes
had been built through Kent and Sussex, which struck me as rather
useless, and these were occupied. The local Home Guard was also
mustered but they didn't inspire much confidence. Late in the
afternoon the all clear was announced and the troops went back to
their barracks at Maresfield. All kinds of rumours floated about
- German bodies washed up on the beaches at Brighton, etc. and an
invasion thwarted - but it was a false alarm. Probably a
deliberate alarm to test the defences.

The school organised a "Dig for Victory" garden and we boys
volunteered as gardeners. We were also taken up on the Downs to
create pits and erect poles so as to deter landings by gliders.
Digging pits in chalk is hard work and rather messy, but we felt
we were doing our bit.

One day an Old Boy visited the school in his Air Force
uniform. We goggled in awe. He was, of course, young but he was a
Group Captain [Note: It would have been Group Captain Tom Horgan
DFC, DSO] with four rings on his sleeve and pilot wings on his
tunic. If only the war would last long enough for us to get into
action ! Every night the drone of enemy bombers could be heard,
preceded by the undulating wail of the air raid siren. We would
go down in the cellar and make ourselves as comfortable as we
could but sleep was impossible and on more than one occasion I
went back up to bed, preferring comfort and sleep to security.
The night of the blitz on London we went up the hill to the
Recreatiom Ground and saw the red glow in the sky of London
burning, forty odd miles away.

Brighton was hit quite a lot and on our trips there we could
see the bomb damage. The beaches were strung with barbed wire;
the piers had been dynamited and sandbagged positions built along
the waterfront. One thursday Bill Blake and I took the train to
Brighton for something to do but it was like a ghost town; we
wound up going through the rock garden. There was nothing to do
there; it was not the Brighton we had known in peace-time.
G. D. Sutton

Note 1: Shortly after leaving School in the summer of 1941 the
young Sutton left Lewes and went to Canada. He wrote to the
Headmaster telling him of his experiences in the few months since
he left. Mr Bradshaw found the time to send a letter in reply telling of the
further difficulties that were being imposed on the school and
giving news of other Old Boys and their part in the war.

Note 2: We hope soon to add further details of
Gerry's life to our biography pages